


Indulgence

by ThisisVenereVeritas



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alcohol, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3842629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisisVenereVeritas/pseuds/ThisisVenereVeritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's the simple things that keep the two pirates from going after one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgence

Dresssrosan wine possessed an aromatic taste, a cross between the rich pollen produced by the sunflowers that drenched the island, and the cool salty winds carrying exotic flavors from the Green Bit. 

The white wines, though not overly produced within the country, were light and sweet, and swam down the throat like a refreshing tickle. The rosé, while usually a seasonal treat, felt like flowers against the lips, pungent in scent and flavor, a delicious tang that left the mouth watering after a small sip.

But the red wine was a perfume that carried all the flavors of the summer country. Heavy with the taste of passion, a glass of red Dressrosa wine left the consumer warm and relaxed.

Contentment was always a problem with Crocodile. He had no problem acting the role of superior mind, looking composed and in control of any given circumstance. Doflamingo could recount those few meeting where the two of them showed up to the Marine Headquarters, and Crocodile would appear relaxed, with his legs crossed, and head resting against the whites of his knuckles. But Doflamingo knew better, and underneath the drooping eyelids was an alert mind, calculating some years into the future, looking forward to a utopia where he ruled as king. 

It started with an invitation to visit the country during the spring months, after barrels of all three variations had an entire winter to ferment and warm. The older pirate scoffed at the idea. There mere thought of spending a few days with Doflamingo left Crocodile staring up at him during most of the session, looking sour and uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was the discomfort that lead to him changing his mind, because Doflamingo didn’t have to bring up the offer again, nor pester Crocodile for a visit. The older man stated he’d think about the visit, and Doflamingo had something to look forward to. Weeks went by without a call, then a few months, and Doflamingo considered picking on the older Shichibukai again when finally the den den mushi went off, and he was informed that Crocodile would be making a planned appearance later in the week.

It was nearing the end of summer, and the heat spreading across Dressrosa was almost intolerable, but Crocodile arrived dressed in mostly dark shades of grey, accompanied with the usual black and royal green.

Doflamingo asked Jora to leave the white on ice, to be served after Crocodile finished through the red, maybe with some sweets if he could get Crocodile to such a state. The rosé wasn’t worth a thought. While he guided the man around the country, showing off architecture that avoided the damage of his family’s ransacking, Doflamingo’s executives picked out the finest bottles from the most prestigious wineries. Upon arriving to the castle, the two pirates were welcomed with the site of a table adorned with snacks.

While Doflamingo spread fig jam on a cracker, Crocodile analyzed and judged each bottle, making sarcastic remarks about the name, asking questions about the grade, the year it was produced, and other things that Doflamingo hadn’t accounted for. But Crocodile settled for a rather plain looking brand, the bottle lacking the decorative writings or flowery depictions, and he handed it to Baby 5, demanding she be careful with the cork, and not to pour the contents in the decanter, but let him handle it instead.

The early summer flora was withering under intense sunlight, and there were hardly any sea winds strong enough to reach the castle ground, but Crocodile swirled purple-red wine in a large decanter, and after watching it calm and settle, produced a dry smile that left Doflamingo craving another sort of intoxication. He insisted he pour Crocodile his glass, taking the curvy glass container from the older pirate, his face going unusually cold as his fingers made brief contact with the cool gemstones adorning fingers and thumb. He waited for Crocodile to settle down, coat sliding down both shoulders, his elbows on the table while watching Doflamingo pour two glasses of wine.

Doflamingo stared out, observing the colorful tops of the city, his ears ringing in delight at the sounds of Crocodile’s large rings hitting and clinking against the glass. He waited for Crocodile to take his first sip, and distracted himself with flying birds, the rare sea breeze, accompanied with the flowery scent of Dressrosa. He brought the glass to his nose and compared the scent of the country with that of the wine resting in its glass.

“Who picked this?”

Doflamingo turned, watching Crocodile cup the glass between his middle and ring finger, his eyes possessing a tinge of surprise.

“Vergo,” Doflamingo answered, producing a nervous grin.

Crocodile brought the glass up, and as if to follow Doflamingo’s suit, looked off to the distant scene of the city. He rested his normally intense stare, now suddenly softened, and brought the glass back to his lips.

“Not bad,” he muttered before allowing himself another small sip of the liquid.

Doflamingo would later suggest coming up with a holiday dedicated to Vergo and his impeccable choice in drink, but now could only smile at Crocodile and his dismissive compliment. The older pirate slouched back into his seat, legs crossed, and the large hook lying heavily on top, growing heavier as Crocodile brought the glass out, aimed up at the sun above. He swirled the contents of his glass once more, both men smiling at the thin byzantium film that lined the inside of the glass, color magnified under the light. 

Doflamingo lifted his sunglasses, letting them rest on top of his forehead as he slide down his seat, legs stretched out. He watches Crocodile’s coat begin to fall off one of the shoulders, the hook aimed towards the ground, sinking further after a short sigh from its owner, and the lazy stare that was produced afterwards as Crocodile brought his glass down, setting it upon the table.

“I take it "not bad” means you like it?“ Doflamingo asked, leaning an elbow against his armrest. He let out a low chuckle when Crocodile made no attempt to distance himself from Doflamingo’s slight advancement.

There were cheeses, dry meats, jams and spreads, crackers and chopped fruits, and Doflamingo knew that later there would be sandwiches filled with red meats and fresh caught fish, roasted veggies with herbs and spices found throughout the New World, along with that chilled white wine served alongside with tarts, pies and cakes. It was a scene of overindulgence, and Crocodile had his pick of whatever he desired, and Doflamingo continued to survey the table, and the way Crocodile slyly brought his hand out, letting it hover over the cloth, stopping and viewing the selection of foods presented to him by the blond. The fingers dropped, Crocodile’s eyelids fluttering uncharacteristically, and although it was hot Doflamingo could sense that Crocodile hungered for something less thirst quenching.

The hand rested on top of the table, fingers curling inward, neglecting the bountiful selection. But Crocodile’s eyes were raised, resting on Doflamingo’s relaxed form, and although they held some irritation to them, Doflamingo could tell Crocodile was experiencing serenity, enjoying the scene for what it was worth.

"Perhaps,” he admitted, closing his eyes at the tail end of the word, pretending to hide some darker intent. “I suppose even a fool like you can plan a few things out right.” Crocodile reopened his eyes, blinking a few times to readjust his vision against the bright light of the sun. He raised his hand and pointed to Doflamingo. “You’ve failed to have a taste. Indulge.”

Doflamingo raised his glass. “So I have,” he muttered. He tipped his drink towards Crocodile, who produced a slight tilt of the head in response.

“What?” he asked.

Doflamingo grinned. “To good company?”

There was a rush of cool air, the first in a long while, and Doflamingo smirked when he felt the breeze hit side of his and Crocodile’s face. The scent of the country’s collective harmony hit them at once, and Crocodile, though he couldn’t bear to bring himself to react too positively to Doflamingo’s remark, let out a slow, sharp laugh, bringing his glass up and gesturing it to Doflamingo.

“Sure,” he replied, cracking a new grin that Doflamingo never paid witness to until this very moment. “I’ll drink to that.”


End file.
